The weight of maybe tomorrow
Two Years Ago
Hospitals have a way of stripping people down. Not physically, though they do that too, but in a way that feels far more invasive. They take the noise of the outside world, the chaos, the distractions, the personas people build for themselves… and they silence it. What’s left is something quieter. Something more honest. For a man like Austin James Mercer, honesty was never the problem.
Facing it was. The waiting room was sterile. White walls, grey chairs, the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. A television mounted in the corner played something meaningless—some daytime talk show filled with laughter that felt artificial in a place like this. Austin sat hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, one hand dangling loosely between them while the other stayed close, guarding his shoulder like it was something fragile. Because it was. His right shoulder sat wrapped in a black compression brace, hidden mostly beneath a dark hoodie. The hood itself was down, his longer hair falling just past his shoulders, slightly damp from the rain outside. His beard was shorter back then, less refined, like he hadn’t quite decided who he was supposed to be yet. Or maybe he had… and just didn’t like the answer. He rolled his shoulder slightly.
Immediate regret.
A sharp, biting pain shot through the joint, forcing a tight exhale through his nose. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he forced the reaction down. No dramatics. No outburst. Just quiet acceptance. That was new. A few years ago, Austin would have punched something. Cursed. Blamed someone. The opponent, the booking, the timing, the universe. Now? He just nodded to himself slightly. As if confirming something he already knew. Yeah… that’s about right. “Austin Mercer?” The voice cut cleanly through the silence. Professional. Calm.
Austin looked up. A nurse stood in the doorway, clipboard in hand, offering a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Not cold, just practiced. He nodded once, pushing himself up slowly. Even that movement came with a stiffness that didn’t belong to a man in his prime.
But that was the thing about wrestling. It aged you long before it was supposed to. He followed her down the hallway, boots echoing softly against the polished floor. Each step felt heavier than the last, not physically, but mentally. Like he was walking toward something final. Or maybe something he’d been avoiding. The room they led him into wasn’t much different from the waiting area. Same sterile feel. Same quiet hum. Same sense that something important was about to be said. He sat on the examination table, adjusting slightly to ease the pressure on his shoulder. Then he waited. And waited.
And in that waiting, the thoughts crept in. Not loud. Not overwhelming. Just… persistent. Six months? Eight? And then what? The door opened. Dr. Andrews stepped in, mid-forties, composed, carrying a tablet in one hand. He had the kind of presence that didn’t demand attention, but held it anyway. Years of experience etched into the way he moved, the way he looked at people. He didn’t see patients. He saw problems to solve. “Austin,” he said, offering a small nod. “Good to see you again. Though I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Austin let out a quiet huff of amusement, though there was no real humor behind it. “Yeah… story of my career, doc.”
Dr. Andrews gave a faint smile at that, stepping closer as he glanced over the notes on his tablet. “I’ve reviewed the scans,” he began, tone shifting slightly, more clinical now. “Rotator cuff tear. Not the worst I’ve seen, but not something you can just push through either.”
Austin nodded slowly, eyes drifting down to the floor. “Figures.”
There was a pause. Then the doctor looked up, studying him, not just the injury, but the man attached to it. “I’m going to be straightforward with you, With surgery and proper rehabilitation, you’re looking at a six to eight month recovery timeline.” Six to eight months. The words hung in the air. Heavy. Final. Austin let out a slow breath, leaning back slightly against the wall behind him. His good hand came up, rubbing at his beard as he processed it.
“Six to eight…” he repeated quietly.
Dr. Andrews nodded. “That’s the realistic expectation if everything goes according to plan.”
Austin gave a small, almost absent-minded chuckle. “When does it ever go according to plan?”
That earned a slightly more genuine smile from the doctor. “Fair point.”
Silence settled again. But this time, it wasn’t empty. It was loaded. Austin shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction as he stared at nothing in particular. His leg bounced once, then stopped. “Let me ask you something,” he said after a moment.
Dr. Andrews gestured lightly. “Go ahead.”
Austin hesitated. Not because he didn’t know what he wanted to ask. But because saying it out loud made it real. “…that timeline,” he started, voice quieter now. [color=lightblue“That’s for getting back to normal, right?”[/color]
“Yes.”
“And ‘normal’ means…?”
The doctor tilted his head slightly, considering the question. “For most people? Day-to-day function. Work. Physical activity without pain.” Austin let out another small chuckle. “But not… this.” He gestured vaguely with his hand, though they both knew exactly what he meant. Not just wrestling. Everything that came with it. The impacts. The strain. The constant punishment. Dr. Andrews didn’t answer immediately. And that told Austin everything. “It means,” the doctor said carefully, “that returning to professional wrestling would come with risks. Increased chance of re-injury. Long-term damage if not managed properly.”
Austin nodded slowly. [color=lightblue“Yeah… figured.”[/color] Another pause. Then, unexpectedly “I don’t know if I want to go back.”
The words came out before he could stop them. And once they were out… they didn’t feel wrong. Dr. Andrews didn’t react with surprise. If anything, he seemed to relax slightly. “That’s not an uncommon feeling,” he said.
Austin scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “Yeah? Guys usually come in here saying that?”
“More than you’d think.”
Austin looked up at him then, a hint of skepticism in his eyes. [color=lightblue“Do they mean it?”[/color] The doctor met his gaze evenly.
“Some do.” That hung there.
Austin leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, staring down at his hands. “I’ve been doing this a long time,” he said quietly. “Taking hits. Getting back up. Telling myself it’s worth it.” His fingers curled slightly. “Telling myself I love it.” Another pause. Then— “…but lately?” He shook his head. “It’s different.” Dr. Andrews stayed silent, letting him speak. “I go out there….“and it’s like… I’m going through the motions. Like I know what I’m supposed to feel, but it’s not there anymore.” His jaw tightened. “And that scares me more than this,” he added, gesturing to his shoulder.
Because injuries? They healed. Or they didn’t. But they were simple. This? This was something else entirely. “What do you think changed?” the doctor asked. Austin let out a slow breath, leaning back again as he stared up at the ceiling.
“…I don’t know,” he admitted. But that wasn’t entirely true. He just didn’t know how to say it. “Maybe I just got tired,” he said instead. “Tired of the grind. Tired of the same cycle. Win, lose, get hurt, come back, do it again.” He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “Feels like I’ve been stuck in that loop forever.”
Dr. Andrews nodded slightly. “That kind of repetition can wear on anyone. Physically and mentally.”
Austin turned his head, looking back at him. “Yeah… but this isn’t just a job, doc.”
“I know.”
“It’s supposed to be who I am.”
There it was. The real issue. Not the injury. Not the recovery. Identity. And what happens when it starts to slip. Dr. Andrews stepped a little closer, his tone shifting again, less clinical, more human. “I can fix your shoulder,” he said plainly. Austin held his gaze. “But I can’t fix that…..I can give you the ability to go back,” the doctor continued. “But whether you should… or whether you want to… that’s something you have to figure out.”
Austin swallowed hard, his eyes drifting away again.“Yeah…” His voice was quieter now. More uncertain. “I think… I think I might need a break.” Even saying it felt strange.
Like admitting defeat. But it didn’t feel like defeat. It felt like… relief. Dr. Andrews gave a small nod. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” Austin let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“For the first time in a while,” he said slowly, “I’m not thinking about how fast I can get back.” He looked down at his shoulder. “I’m thinking about whether I even should.” Another pause. Then he shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Never thought I’d be the guy saying that.”
Dr. Andrews allowed himself a small smile in return. “People change.” Austin nodded.
“Yeah…” He pushed himself off the table, standing carefully. The movement was slower than it used to be. More deliberate. More aware. “Guess I’ve got some things to figure out.”
The doctor stepped back, giving him space. “That’s not a bad thing.”
Austin glanced toward the door, then back at him.“…six to eight months, huh?”
“If you go through with it, yes.” Austin nodded once.
“Alright.”
He turned, heading for the door. But before he reached it, “Austin.” He paused, looking back. Dr. Andrews met his gaze one last time. “Whatever you decide… make sure it’s for the right reasons.” Austin held that look for a moment.
Then he gave a small, understanding nod. “Yeah.” And with that—He stepped out into the hallway. The same sterile walls. The same quiet hum. But something felt… different. Not lighter. Not easier. Just clearer. For the first time in a long time, Austin James Mercer didn’t have a plan. Didn’t have a timeline. Didn’t have a goal to chase. Just a question. And maybe…That was exactly what he needed.
The first step back
”The first step back is always the hardest. No matter how long you’re gone. Whether it’s two weeks two months or two years. You end up getting shaky and unsure of yourself. The confidence that you once had disappears. Most people are left broken and the measure of a man is taken on whether or not they can overcome that and get back to former glory. In many ways it’s like starting again. Resetting everything. And for someone like me who has had such a story career in SCW then it’s a bit of a problem”
“But i’m not want to make excuses. In fact I never have been. I’ve always been the type of person to face my problems head on. And in coming back I saw a big problem that I wanted to face. I saw an injustice that I needed to fix. And don’t get me wrong that injustice wasn’t that Alexander Raven wasn’t the world champion. I couldn’t care less who the world champion was. As long as it wasn’t Carter.”
“I have sat at home and watched Carter and Miles spew their stupid love story all over the television sets. I’ve watched Carter go on about how he is a world champion while constantly contradicting himself on whether or not he is the one to run this place. He should have lost that championship months ago but instead he kept it constantly spitting on it because he was never worthy of it.”
“So, I took that opportunity in my hands and I ended it. Alexander Raven just happened to be the beneficiary of it. And honestly that in and of itself is regrettable. Because if I’m being perfectly honest with you? I dislike Alexander Raven. I think he’s a whiny little sycophant who shouldn’t be anywhere near the championship either either but unlike Carter at least I know he will lose it in short order. Carter had an iron grip on it. It is just unfortunate that in the same night I made my return and ended that fast. Alex Jones couldn’t hold up his end of the bargain and keep the Internet championship. Instead of losing it to miles and then applauding him. Congratulating him. Give me a goddamn break.”
Austin steps slowly around the empty gym it is early at Wolfslair NYC. So early no one is there
”But, all that comes to an end. I’m back. And I’m ready to give SCW something that this place has been lacking in sometime. Credibility. We’ve had so many stars leave and so many wannabes try and fill the spots. Admittedly we have had people come back like Alexander Raven. But really what has that done? Because you look at the landscape of this company and we have people like Liam Davis and Logan Hunter who don’t know the difference between a wrist lock and a wrist watch. They don’t have star power, they don’t have legitimacy. Where are the Jack Washington’s? Where are the Finn Whelans, Where’s Fenris?”
“Where are they? The ones that kept real weight with their names?”
“Hell I’d take Macbane at this point…”
“Replacing them are LJ Kasey, Bill Barnhart, Ryan Keys, Brandon Hendrix. It’s like replacing a Ferrari F 50 with a Toyota Corolla. Meanwhile I’m watching Alex try everything he can to bring legitimacy back to SCW and he’s so old that it’s honestly hard for him to do so. And this is coming from someone who loves that guy. Alex Jones is still my mentor and he’s still my friend but at the same time he’s been fighting or losing battle against the forces in this company who just want to watch it become a personal playground of people who have no idea what professional wrestling is. So I need to fix that and the first step to fixing that is asserting my dominance.”
Austin walks over to one of the rings putting his hand on the apron before smiling and looking into the camera his long hair tied back in a bong above his head as his leather jacket crinkles and shines under the light above
”Now, I don’t know who you pissed off Doyle but I’m willing to bet you weren’t expecting this. You have been in SCW for a little while now and you failed to set the world on fire. But you’re a decent professional wrestler, you’ve had a few wins here and there, you’ve been impressive. But for some reason the powers that be in this company have decided that you are going to be my sacrificial lamb. You are going to be the first person who is going to feel my wrath. The first person to know what it’s like to face a real star. And as good as you are and as much confidence as I’m sure you have going into this match, it’s not going to do you any favours.”
“And you should have confidence. I mean yeah I’m a big guy, people know how good I am. But I’m also coming off an almost 2 year layoff where I chose to step out of the ring. One wouldn’t blame you for questioning my motivations. I spent time off to rehab a shoulder injury and to have surgery surgery but I’ve been ready to come back for awhile now. I’ll be the first one to admit I dragged my feet for a very long time. Because I fell out of love with this Doyle. I fell out of love with the business of professional wrestling and for the longest time I just sat back and I let the world fly by content with being a husband a content with being a father content with training the next generation.”
“And what a time I had while I was waiting. I got married to the love of my life. We built a house together. We lived at the American dream. And I love my life. I will be completely honest with you, I am not lacking for anything outside of this business.”
“A beautiful wife amazing kids a beautiful house a great job outside of this. But the problem with that is eventually you start seeing holes. You start feeling void. And I started feeling that void very quickly. But I tried ignoring it. I tried just letting it leave. Because I wasn’t sure I wanted to come back. I wasn’t sure if I was done. But that void Doyle, that void festered in Me and grew. A little voice and a little whisper suddenly became a bellowing scream and a call to arms and that’s why I came back. Because I needed to. I’m not doing this because I need money, I’m not doing this because I need contentment. I’m doing this because it is who I am.”
He takes a deep breath pausing and closing his eyes before smiling and opening them again
”Now…what does this mean for you?”
He points and smirks
”Well, you have two courses of action. You can bring everything you are at Me and you can prove to me that you belong in this business and in that ring. And that’s honestly what I hope you do. Or you can be like everyone else in this company and bitch and piss and moan and complain. You can make promises that you can’t possibly keep. And you can ignore when you win and ignore when you lose so they don’t matter. Now, what do I mean by that? You’ll probably notice a theme with your contemporary in this company Doyle. If they lose they completely ignore it, making it not matter. Therefore they negate any goodwill they get when they win. Losses should matter, wins should matter.”
“If you beat me, and that is a very big F. You won’t see me ignoring it. You won’t see me just shovelling it aside like it means nothing. I will acknowledge it. I will congratulate you and I will go back to the drawing board and I will do everything I can to come back stronger. Now if I beat you? Maybe you learn something. Maybe you learn what it’s like to be a star and maybe you learn what it’s like to face someone like me and face a champion. Hell, if you impress me, you could come and train with us.”
“Wolfslair he’s always looking for talent. And maybe you’ll impress me.”
“But, if you do somehow win this match Doyle then I hope you use it to spring ball or something because I want to be very clear on this. There is nothing on this planet more sad than wasted motivation and wasted.momentum. I have seen it time and time again where we have a star rising up beating everyone in their way and then they come against that one person who they can’t beat. And then they lose. And the opponent the one doesn’t do anything with it. They just stay shredding water and stay stagnant stealing that momentum. It has happened time and time again and if you do beat me then you better use that momentum. Because if you don’t, then we are gonna have a bigger problem than a simple wrestling match. But I’m coming for you, and I’m gonna destroy everyone in my path until I get what I want.”
